Charlie and Me
by MelliCorynne
Summary: Maria was a simple librarian in a simple village. Charlie, however, was far from simple - he was quite the opposite. Maria's POV, HM64.
1. Chapter One

The first feeling I had for Charlie Aldebaran was…

I know what you _expect _me to say. I know what you want me to say, because you're reading a book stuck deep within the romance section of the Flowerbud library. You want me to say that it was love at first sight, I couldn't resist how _attracted_ I immediately was to him, that I couldn't help but speak to the man, despite my shy nature. Or maybe, you want me to say that it was like any other ordinary day, but that I happened to notice, perhaps, the way his hair fell in his eyes, or the unnatural glow his eyes had in the morning sun.

Following true to what would be _realistic_, you might expect me to say I was indifferent towards him; he was another stranger who'd come to live in Flowerbud village. Maybe I'd had expectations of meeting him, myself – maybe I'd wanted him to live up to his father's name, just like the rest of the village.

But whatever you assumed, I can surely tell you, I was quite surprised of the first feeling I had of the white-haired farmer. Or, maybe I wasn't, since he gave me _plenty _of reason to feel the way I felt.

I hated his stinking guts.

I suppose I could've said, "I felt for Charlie a way I'd never felt for a man before," and you could have assumed from there, since that's somewhat of an honest statement – I'd never truly thought I'd actually hate someone. But this guy was a jerk, let me tell you, from the very beginning.

I first caught a glimpse of his unnaturally colored hair seated behind my desk in the library. My nose had been buried in a book, and usually, it takes a lot to draw my attention away from it, but his blinding white hair reflecting in the morning sun drew my attention immediately. He turned and looked into the window for a moment, and I immediately felt awkward; was he looking at me? I recalled how nearly impossible it was to look into the library windows during the daytime; they reflected everything outside as if it were a mirror. For a whole of two seconds, I felt very grateful for this, until he strolled right over to the window, pressed his nose against the screen, squinted his eyes, and looked right at me.

He waved, unsmiling, his brow furrowed as if he was looking into the bright afternoon sun, and I had never before felt more awkward in my entire life. I smiled shyly back and quickly closed the curtains; what a strange guy.

And, to my horror, this strange guy entered my library within twenty seconds.

"Oh," he said slowly and neutrally, looking all around. "A library."

Perhaps you expect me to explain how interested he was in books, or perhaps how adorable he was in not knowing a thing about them. Sure, that's how most of your romance stories would go; if my romance story had abided by the normal rules of, say, the book you might find resting next to this one, or perhaps the one whose author's name actually begins with a "U" placed directly in the center of the "A" section, I might describe just how adorable he was at this moment in time. However, I'm telling a _truthful_ story, and to tell the _truth _would be going against every rule in all of these other books. Well, to an extent, anyway.

He folded his arms across his chest and turned straight to me, his purple eyes fixing on me. "I hate reading," he said, which, to me, was like fingernails down a chalkboard. I fought the disgusted look my brain begged my face to make, and instead, gave him a polite smile.

"I'm sorry," I replied, looking up at him and raising my eyebrows in a friendly, yet confused fashion, "I missed that?"

For some reason, at the time, it was better to pretend I hadn't heard him at all instead of biting back at him. I figured, maybe, if he had a brain, or any manners at all, he'd reply "nothing" in a way that would make me curl back into my seat sulkily. I was very wrong.

"Are you deaf?" He questioned, his eyes boring straight into my own. "I said, 'I hate reading.'"

At that moment, I decided I hated Charlie Aldebaran, new owner of Aldebaran Farm. I decided I didn't care if he dropped dead, right there in my library (as long as he didn't get any blood on the books), or if I never saw him again. As a matter of fact, I found myself willing him away the best I could, but the man simply _wouldn't leave._

The strange man dragged a stool across my precious, polished hardwood floor. The screeching sound reached my ears and I cringed, wondering what sort of damage was being done to my floor.

"But the mayor said," he continued, continuing to look straight at me, as though he knew I hated being stared at, "I needed to come here for information on farming, if I needed any."

I paused for a moment, a blush rising to my cheeks despite my efforts to fight it down, and glanced around. "W…well," I said, nodding towards the far corner of the library, "there are books over there on farming, written by farmers through the ages who've actually worked this territory. I'm sure they'd be a great read-"

"I've just said I hate reading," the farmer interrupted, staring at me as if I were a complete idiot.

I blinked continuously, biting back smart replies, and shrugged my shoulders. "I…I'm sorry…" I said, at a loss for polite words. "I don't know… how to help you…"

"You could tell me what they say," he replied quickly and impatiently. "You look like you've read everything _in _this darn library."

What was he trying to imply? I took a deep breath as I tapped my feet against the side of the desk, biting my lip. "I... read those books a long time ago," I said, avoiding his eyes. "I'm not the best source to ask."

"Well, dammit," he said, and if I'd just been a little more outgoing, I would've told him to watch his language in my library, though about half of my books contained that type of language. "What am I supposed to do, then?"

"R…read?" I offered, which only seemed to make him stare harder at me, but his expression didn't change at all.

"Read, huh?"

"Y..yes…" Had I been smart? That hadn't really been my intention, and in any other situation, I would've wanted to take it back, but I felt quite proud of myself. My cheeks flushed bright red as he stared at me.

"Huh," he only said, tapping his fingers against my desk and leaning across it to look at me. "Alright, well, which one should I read?"

I stood up from my desk, smoothing my dress down as I did so, and began to walk towards the farming section, the white-haired stranger close behind me. I couldn't help but notice how tall he was at that moment (and no, for your information, I was _not_ strangely attracted to abnormally tall men, I just found it worth noting); he was at least six and a half feet tall, towering over my small figure of five feet, on a good day. I paused for a moment, blushing up at him embarrassedly, and he shrugged.

"Well?" He questioned impatiently, "What book?"

I shook my head, as if prying my eyes away from him, and stared into the farming section for a while. "W… what type of information are you looking for…?"

"Farming," he said shortly, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at me, for the fifth, sixth, maybe seventh time that day, as if I were a complete idiot.

"No, no," I said quickly, though quietly, shaking my head. "I mean, crops? Even that has a few categories, like planting, daily care, and harvesting… or are you looking for livestock information?" I asked shyly, refusing to look at him. "There's even a few here and there on what crops are best during what seasons, and even a few with recipes-"

"Are there any with just a general idea of what farming is?" He asked, and as I looked up at him, I noticed a slight tinge of red on his cheeks, though I ignored it. Surely he wasn't blushing because… did he not know a thing about farming? I doubted that. No idiot, in their right mind, would take responsibility and ownership of a farm without knowing what they were doing.

"Of what farming is? Well, isn't it just p..planting and growing crops, and h..harvesting them? And maybe a few animals…?"

"Well yeah, I knew that… but are there any that contain most of the information you just said? Like a big farming encyclopedia, or something?" He leaned against my bookshelf, and it gave an ominous wobble, though he pretended he didn't notice at all.

"Uh, I… well, I'm sure there is…" I turned away from him, and searched a while, before laying eyes on just the book he needed. "Here," I said, taking the book out with difficulty; it was heavy, thick, and dusty. I held it up to him.

"That's a big book," he said, blinking down at it. "Have you got any smaller?" He asked. I was half tempted to ask him if he wanted the kind with full-colored pictures and a crossword section in the back, but instead, I just shook my head timidly. He sighed in an unsatisfied manner and lifted the heavy book from my cramping hands, and tossed it from one hand to the other as if it weren't a load at all.

"Alright, thanks," he said, and immediately turned to leave the library, but I held my hand out and managed to squeak "Wait!" before he slammed the door shut.

"What?" He inquired, cocking his head at me as if there could possibly something _else _he needed to do. "What now?"

"I'm sorry, b..but you have to check out books here, sir," I said, adjusting the sheets of paper scattered across my desk for the hundredth time that day. He paused for a moment at the door, almost as if he were going to run for it. Finally, he strolled over to my desk and let the book fall on it with a loud _clunk_, causing me to give another cringe.

"Farming Mechanics," I recited mechanically as I wrote it down onto my check-out sheet, along with its number, the date, and – what was this man's name?

"E…excuse me," I said after a moment. He sighed and looked back down at me, his arms crossed. "What's your name? I have to write it down here…"

"Charlie Aldebaran," he said impatiently. "Can I go now?"

"Yes," I replied, writing his name down and stamping the back of the book. "G… good luck. The book is due back in two days."

"Right, whatever," he responded, and with that, he was gone.


	2. Chapter Two

Two days passed, and at first, I was glad _not_ to see his face back at my library, though his book was due back. Besides, who else in the village would need that book besides him; the only other 'farmers' were the owners of Green Ranch, who'd been raising livestock for years, and Lilia, who already knew what she was doing, as she'd been planting and harvesting seeds for just as long. It slightly irked me that my book wasn't back, of course, as it bothered me every time, since I couldn't stand for my books to be out for lengths at a time. However, I had no interest in seeing _that_ man again, so what worry was it of mine?

On the fourth day of it not being returned, however, _Harris_, of all people, walked in and asked me if I had 'some type of farming encyclopedia.' I blinked at the village mailman unbelievingly and somewhat begrudgingly.

"Why?" I simply asked as he fidgeted uncomfortably in front of my desk.

"Well," he said, placing a nervous finger on my lampshade and bouncing it, "I just… was interested, is all. In, you know, how farms work… I like to know how things work."

I did too, of course; I'd checked over the encyclopedia a few times myself, just to satisfy my own curiosity, but I never took Harris to be the intellectual type. Instead of asking further questions, I shyly replied that the book was not in at the moment, that Charlie, the farmer down the street, had already checked it out.

"Oh, I see," he said almost disappointedly and turned to leave. I silently pondered why he didn't pick another book instead. "Thanks anyway," he said before my door clinked shut. I gave a shrug and returned to my book without another thought.

I didn't think about that unusual encounter again until Harris entered, two days later, asking for the same book, and I embarrassedly had to tell him that I still did not have the book, that Charlie, the new farmer down the street, _still _had it checked out.

"But aren't you only allowed to have books checked out for two days?" He asked me cautiously, and I nodded, my cheeks flushing bright red; part of me felt like a scorned child. "Oh," he said, tapping his feet. "Maybe he doesn't know that rule, or something."

"…Maybe so," I responded, though I highly doubted it.

And so it became somewhat of a routine; Harris would come in at around two o'clock each day and ask me if the book had still not come back, and I was starting to grow tired of the disruption in my library, so I took it upon myself to go and retrieve the book.

To say the least, this wouldn't prove as one of my favorite tasks. I _hated_ confrontation, so this little episode would certainly not go down in the book as my shining achievement in Flowerbud village. At four that evening, I closed up the library early and locked the door behind me, and instead of heading over next door to have supper with my parents, I continued down the path, towards his farm.

It was five o'clock before I finally reached the farm, as I'd lost myself here and there (I don't get out much, alright?), but upon entering, I immediately regretted my decision. I should have simply told Harris to find another book to read to pass his time, another obsession to fulfill. Instead, however, I decided to _care_ about my job. Huh.

Almost as soon as I'd stepped into his farm, his little puppy came scurrying over to me, his tongue flopping about outside his mouth, his tail wagging furiously. It was like a scary movie, for me, as I anticipated his jump, the mud on his paws reaching my dress, and his sharp little puppy teeth sinking into my hand. I let out a girly shriek and fell backwards, right onto my rear, and tried to fight the animal off.

"Please, puppy, get off me!" I protested as he proceeded to lick me on my face continuously, and suddenly, my savior appeared.

Did you expect me to say Charlie? I don't think I'd _ever_ call Charlie my 'savior', to say the least. Well, at least I wouldn't have, at this point. No, it was Zack, the guy who picked up all of the shipping at the end of the day, who pried the shivering mass of "cuteness" from me and gave me a hand to my feet.

"Whatever are you doing here?" He asked, somewhat confused. "Are you here to see _Charlie_?" I fought back a laugh; from the tone of Zack's voice, Charlie had an apparent reputation.

"Y..yes, actually," I replied, attempting to wipe mud from my dress. "Th.. Thank you very much for helping me up."

"Well it's not like Charlie would've helped you," Zack muttered under his breath, before turning towards the fields and shouting out. "Hey, Charlie!"

I looked behind Zack and into the direction he was shouting, and there, in the middle of a mass of weeds, stood the book-thief, Charlie Aldebaran. "What?" Charlie yelled back, holding his hands up to shield his eyes from the sun. "What is it? Didn't I put everything in the bin?"

"Yeah," Zack replied, lowering his voice slightly, "but you've got another visitor!"

"Oh," Charlie said, noticing me for the first time. "Right." He began to make his way towards me from the garden.

"Th… thanks again," I said to Zack, but he was already turning to leave me with this stupid man. He simply shrugged and nodded and was gone, and now Charlie was approaching me.

Charlie gave me a confused look, and I half-expected him to ask me what I was doing here, but instead, he threw my book onto the ground. "This has been no help at all," he said as if he'd just tried a gross type of food. "No help. My crops still won't grow, and I don't know what I'm doing _wrong_."

I blinked, picked up the book, and examined it thoroughly. Not only was the cover completely drenched in mud, but a few of the pages inside were torn. I fought back tears as I cradled it close to my chest, biting my lip as I stared up at this book-murderer.

"H..have you read it thoroughly?" I asked him, my voice quavering. "Have you read all of it…?"

"Well no, I just skimmed the beginnings of the chapters. It was way too boring for me to read all the way." He glanced down at me and cocked his head, as if he could sense my feelings. Something about his expression, at this moment, reminded me of the puppy that had greeted me just moments ago.

"You should probably read all of the chapters thoroughly," I noted, but when he tried to reach for the book, I held it tight against my chest. "It's been due back for a while," I added as he stared at me questioningly.

"Well, at least tell me what I've been doing wrong, or something, my gosh." Charlie muttered, rubbing his forehead in frustration. "I've been trying all week to get these damn things to grow, and it's _not working_."

"Th..then let me see the fields," I said, and slowly began to walk towards them, still cradling the damaged book to my chest. He trailed not far behind me, his hands shoved deeply into his pockets.

Right away I saw the problem. I've never planted a single thing in my life, but this problem was so painfully obvious that I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from bursting into laughter.

"Charlie," I said slowly and cautiously, almost unbelievingly. He was by my side, leaning down towards his fields and listening apprehensively. "It doesn't help," I continued, "to till the ground in the first place, if you're not going to cover the seeds up with more soil." His seeds were simply sitting atop the tilled ground, the sprouts poking out slightly. I almost asked him if he'd been watering them regularly, until I glanced over at another patch, in which the seeds weren't sitting on the ground at all; they were floating in a small puddle.

"I'm supposed to cover them up with more soil?!" Charlie seemed frustrated at this. "Farming is stupid. Why do I have to do all that?" He threw his arms up over his head and I leaned back up, fighting an amused smile.

"You just do," I replied, and with that, I took the hoe, sitting next to his field, and scooped up loose dirt. I spread it carefully over the top of one patch of his seeds and set the hoe aside, leaning back down to pat it down gently. "Like this," I said, resting on my knees to inspect my handiwork. He leaned down next to me now and took another patch of seeds, doing the same thing I'd done, just much sloppier. Once he was done, he looked at me expectantly without saying anything, as if waiting on approval.

"It's… it's good," I said cautiously, as his handiwork was definitely much sloppier than mine (he'd accidentally mixed in a few weeds here and there), but I figured some of that didn't matter with farming. "Just like that." He continued to do this, until he reached the seeds floating in water, and sat for a moment.

"I think you should find a new patch for that," I said slowly, and took the seeds from the puddle, as he lifted his hoe and tilled another patch of field for these seeds. We silently placed them into the soil and covered them up, patting them down loosely.

"Alright," he said, placing his hands on his hips confidently, as if he'd come up with the solution all on his own. "Now I'm going to have myself a farm—"

"We're not done yet," I interrupted quietly as I stepped forward to rip a few weeds out of the ground. "These shouldn't be here at all." He paused for a moment, before inching up to help me, too, stepping all over his newly planted seeds. I winced, but bit my tongue.

"Why shouldn't they?" He asked, and I detected a hint of _normality _in his voice. Amazing.

"Because they'll interfere with the other crops growing and kill them," I responded simply, and he nodded. "Oh," he replied, and I was flooded with the satisfaction I usually felt while informing someone of something. However, as if he could detect my happiness, even for a fleeting moment, he interrupted it completely by saying,

"You're a real nerd, aren'tcha?"

"Mmhmm," I simply muttered as I pulled up the last weed and tossed it in the neat pile I'd made to the side. Once again, he crossed his arms over his chest and inspected our handiwork, a slow smile coming to his face.

"Thanks," He suddenly said, and I found myself slightly surprised. He was thanking me? Really? Such a rude man was capable of being thankful? I smiled, until he continued, "But this is why I _asked_ you, in the _first place, _but you just made me read some stupid book."

I inspected his face and was somewhat surprised to find that he was still smiling, and I smiled back, though timidly. He wasn't so bad, but he still got on my nerves quite a bit.

"I…it's fine," I replied, wiping my hands on my already dirty dress and noting to wash it as soon as I got home. I turned back down the path towards the village, but he called out before I was able to leave.

"Wait," he said, scratching his head. "What's your name?"

"Maria," I replied, a blush meeting my cheeks like normal, when I first introduced myself. "Maria Arcturus."

"Strange name," he said, but shrugged and continued his work. "Thanks," he said again, and I left, my muddied book in tow, without another thought, feeling disturbed but somehow satisfied with my newest encounter with Charlie Aldebaran.


	3. Chapter Three

Harris seemed almost disappointed when I handed over the book to him on the following day. I assumed it was because of the mud-stained cover (though I'd tried my best to clean it thoroughly the night before), but his downcast expression seemed to suggest a little more. "Thank you," he said somewhat quietly as I stamped the book, and he was gone. I was glad for the silence.

The pile of papers at my desk were beginning to annoy me; I was very tempted to sit down just then and sort them all out, organize and reorganize them (my father likes to say I have obsessive compulsive disorder, but I just think I'm overly-organized), but instead of doing so, I decided to relax and read a book. Who cared? I pulled all of the papers together in a neat stack in the corner of my desk before retreating to a far corner of the library and pulling out a dusty mystery. I seated myself at the table and read to my heart's content, fully enjoying the library's normal solitude that I, until recently, had taken for granted.

My peace lasted throughout the day, but a little before noon on the next day, when I'd begun the mystery's sequel, who else but Charlie Aldebaran would come flitting into my library, demanding more information?

What else did I expect, anyway?

"How in the world do I water my plants without killing them?" He demanded of me, breathing angrily. The smell of sweat and dirt infiltrated my library, and I couldn't help but notice a few mud tracks he'd made on my floor. "Every single time I water them, I push off that stupid soil we put on them the other day, and I try to put it back on and water them again, but it doesn't work, and I think they're dying, and I spent a lot of money on those damn seeds!"

"Okay," I said quietly, inserting a bookmark into my book and closing it carefully, resting it on my desk, "You only need to water them once a day."

"Which is what I'm intending to do!" He threw up his arms in frustration and shook his head. "I water them once and then they go all over the stupid place, and I'm running out of time, because they're not going to grow in time for Summer, and then I'll have wasted my stupid money on this stupid farm, following your stupid book's stupid advice!"

"C… calm down," I offered, shaking my head. "How much water are you putting on each patch?"

He put his hands on his hips before replying, "The whole can."

I could hardly contain my laughter. Actually, I didn't contain it at all; I started to laugh right there in the library, laughing at this stupid farmer standing before my desk, covered in mud. "Are you serious?"

"What?! What was I supposed to do?! Stop laughing at me, it isn't funny, I'm following your directions!"

"You're not supposed to put the _whole can,_" I responded after I'd finally finished laughing and wiping my eyes. "You just sprinkle a little bit, till the soil is wet, and then it's fine. You've been dumping the whole can, putting the seeds back, and pouring _more_ water on them?"

"Well yeah," he said, shaking his head as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I mean, I figured if I didn't do it right, I'd just try again."

"That's a good way of thinking," I said cautiously, "but you're going to kill the plants by watering them _too much_."

"Right," he said, and without thanks, without an apology, without anything, he simply turned and strolled right out of my library.

Though I still hated him (kind of), he was proving himself to be perhaps the most interesting villager in all of Flowerbud. Obviously there hadn't been much entertainment before, I noted at that moment, if a simple villager – with quite an attitude, I might add – could prove to be the most interesting event of my entire day.

And it was true; Charlie Aldebaran truly was the most interesting thing I could hope for, at least in that day. A strange part of me wanted him to come tearing back through my door (preferably without mud all over his feet, and with a lack of odor), though another part of me wanted him to stay far, far away. Harris came by again, just as I was closing, and dropped off a package.

"What is this?" I asked him. He shrugged nervously; I shrugged like this when I was around people I didn't know. He didn't wait to see, by any means – with that, he was out the door and down the pathway, leaving me to my next most interesting endeavor.

I opened up the package, and as I sorted through the packing peanuts, I quickly recognized what my hand was wrapping around – this familiar item was a book. I pulled it out of the package, as the packing peanuts fell to the ground, and peered at the title.

"Without You," I read aloud. I cracked open the book, the spine giving with a bittersweet noise, and I flipped the pages, recognizing it as a book of love poetry.

"Oh," I said, shrugging, setting the book back on my desk. Apparently I had ordered a book and not even known it; I had, at some point, intended on ordering some more poetry, as my library lacked a good supply of it. Well, it was reading material for the next day, I supposed, and I cleaned up the package and packing peanuts and left the book on the desk, waiting for me with the allure of an unopened gift.

-------------------------------

The unread book of poetry haunted me all morning - as I took my shower, brushed my teeth, brushed my hair, put on my dress, and ate my breakfast. Even as I tied my shoes, I thought about that silly book of romantic poetry waiting for me. I know to others, I've always come across as a woman who is not interested in "courting," I suppose, but behind closed doors (behind my library doors), I was quite a different woman indeed. If I were to pick up a book of nonfiction, let's say about farming, since that's currently on the mind, I would read it easily within a few days, simply for thirst of knowledge. I'd take a few breaks here and there, but for the most part, I'd read it somewhat easily. However, if I were to pick up a romance book, I'd easily finish it that day, with time to spare for other books.

In truth, I was a sucker for romance; as a matter of fact, Harris had walked in on me plenty of times during a particularly emotional part of a book. For this reason, I learned to keep a handkerchief tucked into my desk drawer. So, when I arrived at the library, I naturally raced to my desk, cracked open the book again (with the sweet, sweet sound of a new bookspine), and buried myself deep within a poet's unanswered dreams of unrequited love.

My heart beat heavily with every poem I read; I felt the occasional need to hold my hand to my chest and sigh in a romantic fashion. I was in heaven - pure, innocent, beautiful, literacy heaven - so much so that I didn't even notice the door squeak open, I didn't even notice the normally incredibly annoying squeak of wet shoes against my hardwood floor. I did notice, however, when a fist slammed right onto my desk.

"How long does it take crops to grow, dammit?" My intruder demanded. My eyes flitted over the top of my book to meet a pair of disgruntled purple ones, and I sighed, placing the bookmark inside and closing it with a dull thunk.

"A while," I said as I placed the book on the table, leaning forward onto my elbows. "What have you planted?"

"Hell, I dunno," he muttered, looking down at his hands. "I just grabbed some seeds and planted 'em."

I bit my lip. Did he even plant spring seeds? I thought back to Lilia's shop - surely so. From what I remembered, she only seemed to place seasonal seeds out, but of course, it wasn't as if I went there everyday... I snapped my drifting eyes back up to meet his. "You don't remember the name at all?"

He only shook his head in response, dragging the stool over to my desk with an obnoxious squeal and sitting on it. He leaned against my wall and propped his muddy shoes on my desk, as I quickly shifted my newest book away from his destructive manners. Didn't he realize that this was far from the appropriate place to do such things?

I stood from my desk with a sigh and quickly found my way back to the farming section of the library, taking a book called "Farming and Seasons" out and allowing it to fall open. I flipped to the page I was looking for and glanced up at Charlie for a moment, my brow furrowed.

"Um, it says here," I said, placing my finger on the correct spot, "that the best crops for Spring growth here in Flowerbud Village are turnips, potatoes, and cabbage. Do any of these crops ring a bell?" I didn't look up from my book; I had a strange feeling that if I did, I might throw up everywhere. How Charlie disgusted me.

"Cabbage, I think. I think that's the one. The seeds came in a little green bag. Is there a picture or anything?" Though he desired the information, he didn't make any efforts to get off of his lazy butt and come see the pictures or evidence himself. I sighed and shrugged, bringing the book to him and showing him a picture of half grown cabbage in comparison to the turnips and potatoes.

"That's the one," he replied, nodding confidently, as if he was giving _me_ the answer.

"Read on," I only said, my brow lifting slightly.

"I thought I told you I hated reading."

"Well, I apologize, but I'm just your village librarian. I'm not a local farmer - or y..your personal assistant. Read on."

Where had this Maria come from? I swelled with pride for a moment, placing a hand on my hip as he reluctantly took the book from me. He furrowed his brow as he looked down at the book, biting his lip. Slowly, he began to read it aloud.

"It says here that it takes... around eight days for them to grow enough to harvest. But hasn't it been eight days?" He looked up at me as if he were the apprentice and I were the age-old farmer, and I sighed, taking the book from him.

"Well," I replied, "considering that you've watered them until they've flooded and that you didn't even know to cover them up with soil, you might say that you're a little behind. Give it time."

He peered at me as though he was considering a retaliation, but wasn't able to find one. Instead, he rapidly leaned forward towards my desk, and again, I felt as though I were in a scary movie as I watched his filthy, dirt-covered hands close around my precious, spotless book.

"What the hell's this?" He asked, his voice filled with a mixture of disgust and incredulation. He opened the book before I could stop him, and suddenly, he was reading a passage aloud -

"_I watch my lover lovingly  
as she hangs up the laundry--_

Seriously, what the hell is this crap?" He glanced at me unbelievingly, his eyes flitting to the bookmark placed towards the end of the book. "You're actually reading this crap?"

"I thought you said you didn't read!" I snapped at him, grabbing the book from his hands and pointedly taking my handkerchief from the desk to wipe the dirt off. "But I suppose you don't engage in any activity unless it involves insulting someone else in the process, am I right?"

This new Maria! I swelled with pride again, my eyes narrowing, my hatred pulsating through my veins. However, I was surprised to realize that, in my own way, I was enjoying this confrontation. Perhaps it was because I knew that if it came down to a battle of the wits, I was going to win. I dragged in a long breath as he stood, wiping his muddy feet all down the side of my desk as he did so.

"And I suppose," he said as he stood up straight, his figure towering over mine - my resolve weakened slightly at this moment - and his hands going to his hips, "that you don't 'engage in any activity' unless it makes you the smarter one, right?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, my tone of voice making it apparent that I was taken aback. My lip curled slightly as my brow furrowed.

"It means," he said, leaning down with a smirk, his purple eyes staring directly into my own brown ones, "that you don't _ever_ leave this stupid library. You _like _being smarter than everyone else around you. You won't even go out to a festival and have some fun, because it doesn't involve you being so damn _intelligent_."

"That's not true," I spat quickly in retaliation, allowing no pause. Unfortunately, my hurt was apparent; my eyes avoided his own as they flitted to the floor, my arms crossing defensively over my chest. "That isn't true at all."

"Alright then, let's see. The last festival I remember was the Horse Race, and before that, there was, of course, the Planting Festival." He snorted before he continued. "And I don't recall seeing you at either one of those." He sneered as he spoke, his eyes malicious and purposely hurtful.

"I just didn't feel like going to them, that's all," I muttered quietly, heat rising to my cheeks in the form of a deep crimson. "I'm not exactly the most social of people-"

"That's because you think you're better than everyone else, because you read all the damn time. Because you know more than everyone else. I know people like you."

I allowed my eyes to finally meet his own, and suddenly, I was afraid of the tears that might spill over onto my cheeks at any moment. "That... that really isn't true..." I said, my voice quavering, my body beginning to quiver along with it. "It... it really isn't..."

"Then prove it," he said, and suddenly his face was so close to mine that I had to lean back quickly. My arms unfolded and locked to my sides as I stared right back at him, the tears disappearing and a new rage filling me entirely. "Prove it by going to the Flower Festival with me on the twenty-third of this month."

I took in a sharp breath and flinched slightly. "You must be crazy," I said, my newfound anger breaking the surface. "That's two--"

"Days from now, I know." He smirked at me, his teeth appearing just behind his lips. "And you're going to go with me, as my _date._"

"That's absolutely preposterous - if you think for a single moment that I'm going to this festival as _your date _then you're definitely insane asylum material, Mr. Aldebaran. I wouldn't go with you if you were the last man on earth."

"Because you're better than me, is that right?" He questioned, his lip pouting out obnoxiously and mockingly, his brow furrowing as he said the words. I felt my heartbeat in my forehead as I gritted my teeth and tightened my hands at my sides. In that moment, I never felt more like slapping a person.

"_No_, I never said such a thing--"

"Then go with me! Prove it to me - prove it to everyone else in this village. Get a life and get out of this stupid, dusty library." Sadly, I felt offended, first, that he called my library _dusty_; I made a habit of cleaning the place twice a day, when there was nothing else to do. I supposed that that first offense underlined the fact that I, indeed, needed to get a life outside of my fictional ones. I sighed, crossed my arms over my chest, and jutted my chin out as I glared up at the man.

"Fine!" I snapped, "So long as you get out of my library. And don't ever step foot in here again with those dirty, gross boots of yours! Have some respect!" As I mentioned this, he peered down at the floor interestedly, though not ashamedly whatsoever. Of course not.

"I'll pick you up at eight o'clock then," he said, his voice laden with fake sweetness; this mockery made me want to punch him right in the jaw. "And maybe then you'll act like a lady."

"Just _get out_," I said, seething, gritting my teeth against more bitter words. He laughed as he made his way to the door and didn't turn back to even smirk at me. Instead, he slammed the door shut with such a clatter that a few books fell to the floor on the wall adjacent to the door.

I screamed aloud, my anger pulsating through my veins, and seated myself back at my desk, my jaw clenched. I picked up my book and opened it to the bookmarked page (while noticing that the bookmark had a clod of dirt stuck to it), but suddenly, I felt my anger rush through me in such a violent way that I closed it, set it back down, and pushed it right off the desk. It hit the ground with a soft thud, and I hung my head in my hands, allowing another scream to escape my lungs.

What had I just agreed to? A date with _him, _with Charlie Aldebaran? Surely this all was a joke. Well, truthfully, it was, but the joke was on _me, _and I'd agreed to it. How stupid could I be? This man was mean and manipulative. He coaxed me into saying _yes. _How did he do that?

Suddenly I felt as though I wanted to write. I hadn't felt like writing in a long time; not since I was a preteen. But I didn't want to write about good things - I wanted to write hateful, mean, evil things. I wanted to invision myself pounding that stupid farmer's head in with a table leg from my desk, I wanted to imagine stomping on all of his crops just as they were ready to harvest. I gave a frustrated, exasperated sigh and stood from my desk. I was going to close up early and go for a walk.


	4. Chapter Four

This walk idea was a wonderful idea at first; it seemed like a perfect way to get my mind off of that... that _man_ and onto other things. With my insect journal tucked underneath my right arm, I strolled (with an angry sway, I might add) right out of the village and into the supposed "wilderness" of Flowerbud Village. This place was such an open area that it surprised me, at times, that someone hadn't just built a house right over all of the beauty. Of course, the fact that nobody had made me happy in and of itself, but I chose not to think about it at the moment. Or, more so, I couldn't quite think about it at the moment, since my mind was occupied by... _other _things.

How in the world had I agreed to a date with Charlie Aldebaran? How had this happened? I was tempted to write him a mean letter, letting him know that I would never, ever go out on a date with him, whether something needed to be proven or not, but suddenly my own shyness was overtaking me. I'd worry about that letter from the instant I dropped it off in his mailbox until the day of the Flower Festival, and if he knocked on my door, what would I do?

And it wasn't as if the Flower Festival was even really a festival someone could take a date to, honestly. Considering that all of the single women under the age of 25 were active in the festival, going into the running for the "Goddess" of that year, it was difficult, honestly, to try and take someone as a date to it. Of course, there was _dancing_ at the end, but surely Charlie didn't expect me to do something like that, did he? He was absolutely insane if he expected me to make a fool of myself in front of the entire village like that. Absolutely insane.

At least I would go straight into the back room as soon as he walked me there. I wouldn't have to even look at him, or look at the crowd who would interpret wrongly why I was walking into the festival with him; I'd just go straight to the back, hear the results of the poll, and be done with it. I'd resist him if he urged me to dance, and then the festival would be over, and if he thought we were still on this _date_ of sorts (though hopefully not), he'd walk me right back home, and it would all be over and done with.

No, actually, this wasn't too bad at all. What if he had forced me to go with him to the Fireworks Display? That would require _conversation, _something I wasn't exactly the best at in the first place, much less with a jerk like Charlie. Though this "not-so-bad" realization sunk in slowly, it didn't prevent me from being angry. It just prevented me from going over and killing Charlie with his own farm tools.

"Maria?" I heard behind me, and I was torn quickly from my reverie. Slowly, I turned around, my book still tucked securely underneath my arm, and faced a flustered Harris.

"Hello..." I said quietly, bringing my hands together and cradling the book.

"I just saw you weren't in your library, and it's past closing time--"

--Once again Harris had the talent of telling me (without meaning to) what was the norm for my job and what wasn't; couldn't he just not mention it?--

"And I was just confused, is all, as to why you weren't there. And then I saw you here and I just... I'm sorry," he said, scratching the back of his head and peering down at his feet in a way that I recognized in my own mirror sometimes.

"I decided I wanted to take the rest of the day off to take in the Springtime," I said cautiously, suddenly feeling guilty that I was lying - actually lying - to poor Harris. "I always take the first ten days of Summer and Winter off, but I never truly experience the springtime like I should." I smiled sheepishly and looked down at my feet, a red tint of embarrassment reaching my cheeks.

"Oh," he said slowly as he looked down at his feet, and suddenly, everything was terribly awkward. I didn't know what to say, and he wasn't saying anything, and we were both looking down at our feet, waiting on the other to speak. This terrible awkwardness made the redness on my cheeks swell to an even brighter red, especially as he shuffled his feet in the grass like a small child.

I was about to say my goodbyes and continue down towards the Goddess Spring when he finally spoke.

"The Flower Festival is the day after tomorrow," he said suddenly, his chin tucked into his chest so deeply that I couldn't make eye contact unless I crawled underneath him. He scratched his arm awkwardly, and I noticed, though barely, a red tint meet his own cheeks.

"Yes," I said slowly, encouraging him to continue.

"Well, I was just wondering, is all... I was just wondering if, you know, you wanted someone to walk you there and back. And maybe I could dance with you, if you wanted to--"

"Harris, I don't dance," I interrupted very quietly, my blush returning even redder on my cheeks. Was Harris asking me on a _date_? What special thing had I done to warrant two dates in one day?

"Oh, alright... well... I just thought maybe I could walk you home afterwards?"

Yes, this was definitely a date he was asking me on. He wanted to take me to the Flower Festival.

And I had to turn him down.

I closed my eyes as my brow furrowed, and I rubbed my temples with my thumb and forefinger. "Harris," I said quietly, fighting the terribly embarrassed blush that was reaching my cheeks, "I... I would say yes to you but... but you see..."

"Are you not going?" Harris asked, and he was suddenly looking at me, his head cocked. For a moment, I flared up at how presumptuous it was for him to think that I didn't already have a _date, _but I caught myself quickly - it was Charlie, after all.

"No, I'm going..." I said slowly, and suddenly I felt so terribly embarrassed that I could hardly speak. "It's just that... I...I'm going with... I'm going with Charlie."

And suddenly, the awkward silence that was there before could not compare to what was happening now.

"Charlie?" He simply stated unbelievingly - almost disgustedly. "You're going with... Charlie. You mean, that new _farmer_?"

Yes, Mr. Aldebaran most certainly had a reputation. I fought my laugh, and instead, found my reply. "Yes, I'm going with Charlie. But it's not really as a date or anything, I'm just... you know... accompanying him so... so he can see what our festivals are like."

Another lie. Since when had I become a liar? Since I met Charlie Aldebaran. I seethed at the thought of him.

"Oh," Harris replied, and his brow furrowed apologetically, his smile sheepish. "Well, you're a much better person than most of this village. I don't think anyone would be willing to help that man out."

Suddenly, Charlie's words rang clear in my head again - _you think you're better than everyone else. _I winced slightly at the misconception Harris had taken from this conversation, and smiled sheepishly at him. How could I correct him and tell him that, no, that was not the case at all - that my anger had flared up so crazily that I had actually let him manipulate me into going with him? Now that he'd labeled me "Good Neighbor," how could I remove the title? Ugh... my embarrassment was apparent as I stared down at my feet.

"You're such a nice girl, Maria," Harris said, his cheeks flushing an even crazier shade of red, "Such a nice girl. I'll be sure and get to you before he does, next time." A stupid grin crossed his features, and with that, he was gone.

Thank goodness.

The serenity I had desired in the wilderness of Flowerbud Village was usually _not _a hard thing to obtain, but today's events were making it quite a restless thing indeed. I couldn't even chart which bugs I was observing, I was so busy thinking of Charlie and Harris and the Flower Festival. What kind of scene would Charlie make while we were there, and would it make it apparent to Harris - and the rest of the village - that I was not the "Good Neighbor" as he had made it appear? The very thought of Charlie making a scene was making my blood hot again, so I tried to pry my mind away from it.

Finally, I reached the Goddess Spring. I picked a nearby flower and let it flutter into the pond, my arms crossing nervously and defensively over my stomach.

"Goddess," I squeaked, "hear my prayer."

And with that, my mouth went dry. What could I pray for that wasn't selfish?

"I pray that... I pray that..." I searched for the words to say, but couldn't quite make them out. "I pray that whatever is to come, it will soon pass. And hopefully, it'll pass without causing terrible embarrassment." I smiled sheepishly at the pond, wondering what the Goddess could be thinking at this very moment. How mysterious.

"I pray that Charlie might find it in his heart to be a nice person."

That was a nice way of putting it, wasn't it?

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Usually, the days went by slowly in my library; they drug on and on until they were finally over, each day becoming more boring than the next. This fact I most likely would never admit to anyone, as I always pretended to be completely content with my life. However, this next day - the day separating my agreement to the date from the actual date itself - passed by so quickly that I felt like I was brushing my teeth at sunset, rather than sunrise. My mind had apparently been racing so quickly that it wasn't hard at all to lose track of time; I mistakenly actually stayed at the library an hour later than usual, simply because I lost track of time in the middle of my fervish organizing spree.

That night seemed to pass by quickly, too. It seemed as though I fell asleep for two seconds and woke up; I felt as though the Goddess was laughing right in my face. Slowly, I took my morning shower, dressed myself, and ate my breakfast, though none of this proved to make the day any slower. As I finished off my breakfast, I heard a rat-tat-tat at the door, and my mother was quickly going to retrieve it.

"Oh, hello, Charlie," my mother said in a surprised fashion; I could tell by the tone of her voice that her eyebrows were raising in an unbelieving way, though her face was hidden behind the now opened door. "How can I help you?"

"I'm here to pick up Maria," he stated simply, as if such a thing were completely normal. "I'm taking her to the Flower Festival today."

"Oh!" My mother exclaimed fakely; I could hear straight through it. "Well, let me go get her." And with that, the door was shut, and my mother was facing me, her hands on her hips.

"Couldn't you have told him I was extremely sick?" I said as I drug a spoon through my remaining oatmeal. "I mean, really Mom... you didn't help me much."

"Why in the _world_ are you accompanying _that man_ to the Flower Festival?" She demanded, as though she hadn't heard a word I said. "He has been nothing but rude to the entire village, and I will not have my daughter going anywhere with--"

"Mother, it's not a big deal," I replied as I stood, and suddenly, I felt like a defiant teenager, though I was probably angrier with myself than she ever could have been for going with him to this festival. "I'm not going to see him much - he's only going to walk me there and back."

"What about the _dancing_, honey? Everyone knows that dancing with a man at the Flower Festival is a representation of courtship--"

I snorted to interrupt her. "_Dancing?_ You really think I would dance?" I spun to face her, my hands on my hips. "Really?"

She seemed satisfied with my answer, so I was left to answer the door myself. How I wished for an identical twin, suddenly, to take my place! How could I face the man behind this door without killing him in the process? I hadn't seen his face since he left my library with that godforsaken smirk planted on his face, and suddenly I could hardly control myself from ripping the door right from its hinges.

I slowly allowed the door to open, and I stepped out into the chilly morning air. "Hi," I said, my voice clearly laden with dissatisfaction. The door swung shut behind me with a dull thunk, similar to, in my mind, the door of a dungeon closing. At this point, however, I was sure I would rather spend my evening in a torture chamber than with this man.

"Well, you know, you could seem a little _happier_ that someone's here to take you on a date. And are you wearing that same dress? Come on - you have to _dress up_ for dates. But I'm betting you've never been on one, have you?" I allowed my brown eyes to slowly turn up to meet his purple ones as he stared down at me with that same stupid smirk. I lost my resolve quickly; suddenly I didn't feel so much like killing him as before, so much as disappearing into the atmosphere and never returning.

"Thanks," I said sarcastically, and he held out his arm to 'accompany' me to this stupid festival. I stared at his arm for a moment.

"Really?" I questioned unbelievingly, my eyes flitting back and forth from his arm to his face, "You actually have manners? So you're not just totally clueless, then - you're just a total jerk?"

"Something like that," he replied amusedly, his smirk making my fists clench even harder. I took his arm, though, and off we went, towards the village square.


	5. Chapter Five

The walk to the square, to say the least, was excruciating.

I'm sure you're waiting on my narrative of our conversation; I'm sure you're waiting on witty banter in between us, that witty banter that eventually turns into affectionate playfulness. I'm sure you're waiting on sufficient dialouge, packed with our dueling personalities, or perhaps even a trace of romanticism. Or, maybe you're waiting on the unexpected, which was soon to come.

He didn't speak a word to me.

Well, when I say 'he didn't speak a word', I don't so much mean that he didn't _talk, _at all, but the bits and pieces of conversation to the square were so insignificant that my mind forgot the words as soon as it'd registered them. Every so often, he'd mention his crops here and there, and I think I specifically remember a mention of wilting cabbages, but it was, by far, not what I expected.

I know, I know, it's somewhat boring, right? I'm sure you expected (just as I did) some kind of fiasco upon escorting me to the village square, or some other type of entertainment planted here. However, as boring as this is to read, I can tell you that the walk there was far from boring.

First off, he hadn't dropped my arm. So he _did _know some kind of manners; he wasn't completely illiterate with customs. I will admit - though I wouldn't have at the time - that I couldn't resist the tiny blush that acquainted my cheeks upon noticing that he hadn't dropped my arm. However, I will also tell you that this "blush" was not accompanied by a feeling of romance, by any means. Instead, that blush that met my cheeks was purely from the situation occurring at the time; that blush was due to awkwardness.

If there's one thing I hate, it's awkwardness. That, believe it or not, was something I'd actually found "interesting" (I wouldn't dare go so far as to say it was "something I liked") about Charlie. He always had something to say, so much so that sometimes I didn't even have the _chance _to talk. As we were walking to the square, that strange, awkward silence settling in around us, I realized that looking for something to say was much, much more excruciating for me than retaliating from a rather nasty Charlie-bite.

I kept waiting on him to pick at me, to fight at me. And, I'm sure he did pick at me, but in such minor ways that, like I said before, it went in one ear and out the other. I kept waiting so much that, at some point, I found myself searching for words to say to start the fight, to ignite the fire. However, by the time I came up with a rather nasty insult - about his clothes, as a matter of fact - I was too exhausted from _waiting_ for the fight to even start it.

Soon, there we were, at the steps up the village square, my arm still in his. I couldn't help but wonder what kind of looks we were going to get once we walked in, especially since we weren't even talking. If we'd been fighting - well, all suspicions of a 'relationship', so to speak, would be completely defeated. However, as it was, it almost looked as though we were trying, with extreme difficulty, to court. I didn't like the idea, by any means, of courting Charlie.

But, as we reached the top of the steps, he awkwardy released my arm without a word, and I made my way back to the back room of the village square to hear the "results" of voting for the Goddess. I paused for a moment; was I to thank him for escorting me? I chose that, though he had shown some trace of manners today, he by far had not made up for his rudeness in the past. Thanking him was not exactly a priority of mine. So, with that, I disappeared behind the large wooden door, only to face four flustered girls.

I've always hated the Flower Festival, but I've almost always gone, thanks to my father. As a matter of fact, oftentimes, I'd fake sickness just so I wouldn't have to go - I'd even start early sometimes, so it was more believable. However, it becomes quite obvious when one skips the Flower Festival every single year due to "sickness" (though I probably could have pulled off, now that I think about it, as a serious "allergy" to flowers), so I had to force myself to go every now and then. As I peered around at the other girls (who were much prettier than me, I might add), I noticed that their semi-frantic looks were not identical to mine, but carried that same factor of anxiety.

Karen, first off, was sitting in the corner, her legs and arms crossed, her eyes staring off to the side. I'm sure she considered this stance as uncaring, but I, along with everyone else there, could truthfully see right through it; the way she glanced at the dress on the table every now and then and her excess of talking gave it all away. Normally she had something sarcastic here and there to say, but every year it always honestly seemed like Karen was looking for sarcastic, mean comments to say, to the point that the insults ceased to be insults and instead became empty words. Also, her necessity in attacking Ann every now and then made it a little obvious; everyone knew that Karen had a certain attachment to her.

Speaking of Ann, she was sitting as far away from the dress as possible, backed against the wall and picking at the mud on her shoes. She gave no effort to concealing her anxiety at this occasion; as a matter of fact, I could recall many festivals in the past in which I'd seen Ann cry. And trust me - Ann didn't cry easily. Truthfully, she hated the obvious emotion. On the day of the Flower Festival, Ann was always a floor of thin ice, waiting to shatter.

Speaking of shattering...

"Ann?"

The cute voice reached my ears, but it seemed as though there was a thick padding of foam covering Ann's ears. She didn't even flinch. "Ann?" The cute voice tried again, louder this time, but she still didn't respond. Ann was obviously deep in thought.

"Ann!" Popuri finally yelled, her face extremely red and tense. Ann flinched as though she'd been electrocuted, her head bouncing noisily against the wall behind her.

"You didn't have to YELL to get my attention!" The red-head shouted, jumping into an upright standing position and staring down Popuri. "Geez, what's _with _everyone today?" With that, Ann stomped off to the other side of the room. She clearly avoided the dress the best she could, her right shoulder clinging close to the far wall, her pathway easily doubling in time thanks to her need to be as far as possible away from the dress.

Popuri, flustered, took Ann's seat and gave a tiny huff, her anger diminishing but still apparent. She was clearly nervous, though for different reasons than either Ann or Karen. Ann never wanted to hold the title of the Goddess as long as she dared to exist, and Karen - well, Karen didn't exactly want it, but she didn't exactly despise the title, either. She hated to dress up, but she couldn't deny that she didn't mind the attention on her dancing. However, it was clear that both of them despised at least the day, just like I did. Popuri, however, far from despised this day. She, quite honestly, was the most worked up of all of us.

This was, perhaps, because she wanted the title worse than all of us, every year. And though she'd gotten the title for the past two years in the running, she was _never_ satisfied; a festival such as this was her right, you see. She loved flowers, she loved dressing up, she loved dancing and courting and being a girl. Whereas the rest of us either hated or didn't care for most of those things, Popuri thrived from them - she lived for the Flower Festival. She lived to hold the title of the Goddess.

So it was expected that she would be nervous. She went around the room, complimenting each of us heavily, the sweet gesture and smile not quite meeting her eyes. As a matter of fact, the compliments were almost malicious or even creepy in nature. "You would look wonderful in that dress," she said to me, her eyes large and empty, and I wondered if she meant I would look wonderful in a _coffin_ in that dress. Honestly, on this day, I wouldn't put it past her. "Th...thank you," I said, nodding my head slightly, "and you look wonderful in it every year."

An emotion met Popuri's eyes as I said this; it was apparent satisfaction. Her need to compliment others was simply to have the compliment returned. And with that, she meandered over to the table holding the forbidden dress. Her fingertips brushed over the pink silk, and I felt as though I was watching her heart fill up as tears sprung to her eyes. She wanted this title so badly that I often wondered if she "interfered" with the voting process; there were many years where the entire village expected Elli to get it.

Elli was always the least nervous of us all; she always had a calm sense about her that was somewhat soothing to the rest of us. Perhaps this is why I sat next to her every year, and Popuri stayed far, far away (as this tranquility seemed to rattle her). The brown-haired, brown-eyed girl was always honest about how she felt. "How are you feeling?" I asked her as soon as I saw her, and she responded, with some difficulty, that she was "extremely nervous." This difficulty of speaking came from the fact that her mouth was full of cake; I was not surprised. Every year, the day before the Flower Festival, Elli would bake a cake and bring it to the room for all of us to eat. And honestly, all of us (except for Elli), were too nervous to eat, so she would single-handedly consume the entire cake before the results were announced. The poor girl always ate her weight in sweets when she was nervous.

And finally, there was me, watching Elli eating her cake, contemplating my escape. I didn't want the title of the Goddess not because it was "girly", but because it was chock full of attention. Did I want to dance around in a pink dress with my glasses off? No, I'd rather not. My eyes clouded up behind my lenses as I stared down at Elli's pink strawberry cake, a lump rising in my throat. How I hated this day.

And there he was, my father, fat and happy as usual, waiting to announce the results of the voting. I couldn't bear to look at him; what name was he about to reveal to us?


	6. Chapter Six

"And the Goddess this year is..."

He always did this. He always had this stupid, stupid habit of saying every word except the word we wanted - or didn't want - to hear. Every year, he left us hanging on edge like that, like the silence just before a tornado rips your home apart. In those fractions of a second, none of us dared inhale or exhale for fear that the room might explode. How amazing that something as insignificant as a festival, a silly Flower Festival, might be such a devastating moment in one of our lives. Nobody even remembers who the Goddess of the year is by the time summer rolls around, so why did it matter so much?

Every single year, my father had the habit of leaving us on edge like this. And every single year, I closed my eyes tightly against the situation, thinking that if I blocked myself out of the room hard enough, I might disappear into the walls and never have to live the fate of the Goddess. This year, however, something felt different. My eyes were wide open, and I realized, just before my father said the word, why.

This sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach - it wasn't normal. My glasses slid down the bridge of my nose as beads of sweated dripped down it, but I didn't bother to adjust them. There was something about the glance my father gave me as he spoke those first words, and something about the pregnant pause in the room, that let me know before he ever said it.

"The Goddess this year is..." He paused again, and by the tension increasing in the room, I betted every girl around me felt like punching him right in the jaw. I, however, felt like fainting.

"Maria!"

Suddenly, I hated my name. What was a stupid name like Maria, anyway? I wanted to run away from my name; would it be possible to pretend that I'd changed my name just before the voting started?

My mind was being irrational. Now girls were swarmed all around me, touching me and giggling and smiling. Ann had a bright smile on her face; in her mind, she'd avoided death just one more time. Karen winked at me through all of the arms and swooped up the dress from the table to bring it over to me, and Elli jumped up and down in such apparent excitement for me that I felt like punching her. And of course, Popuri smiled in at me, grabbing me slightly too roughly by the shoulder and giggling slightly too loudly. I feared that if she smiled any larger her face might shatter to the floor.

Karen obnoxiously handed over the dress as though it stank, and gave me a slight smirk. "Have fun," she said, and in that moment, I was reminded so much of Charlie that I had trouble not hitting her in the gut. Elli's chants of "you're going to look so cute!" made me want to shove her cake in her silly little face, and Ann's chill posture (she'd made her way back to her seat now) was so annoying that I felt like screaming at her. I found comfort in only Popuri, who, I'm sure, wanted to kill me.

What a day.

I put on the dress slowly, wincing at my reflection in the mirror, as my glasses were removed. Elli had insisted on coming in to help me clothe myself, but I had insisted back that I did this every morning on my own, so there was no trouble at all in putting on a silly little dress for a few hours. However, as I stared at my blurred reflection, I realized that maybe this feat was a little more than I had bargained for; I found myself surprised that my rough grabs and motions to the dress had not ripped it thus far.

And there I was, in that stupid pink dress that smelled as though it had been boxed up for ages, holding my glasses in my hand. As I took in my reflection, my emotions of violence turned to despair, and I had difficulty keeping my tears from pouring down my cheeks.

I looked silly.

"Maria?" Elli said quietly from the other side of the door. She knocked softly, and I could tell by the sound of her voice that she was smiling, but concerned. "Maria, are you all right in there?"

"I'll be just fine," I replied a little too loudly and a little too quickly, and with that spun and opened the bathroom door, blinking back tears and holding my arms behind me.

"Maria..." Elli only said.

I remember thinking that I must look horrid. I peered down at my ballet flats, wondering how silly, stupid, and ugly I looked in a dress that naturally flowed on Popuri; that naturally matched her hair and eyes and even made her boobs look a little big. On me, the dress was slightly too large at the top, and the silk material dangled down slightly at my chest, creating a few wrinkles. And how I hated wrinkles in my perfect life.

"Maria..." Elli repeated. I wondered what she was trying to say, and finally, I allowed my eyes to drift up to her as they filled with tears.

"I know... I know that... I know that I look terrible... d'you... d'you promise to stay next to me?"

"Maria, you don't look terrible at all," Elli replied quickly, her voice dropping low and serious. "I've never seen you look so pretty before."

"You really... you really don't have to say that, Elli... Th...thank you for being so sweet all the time..."

"No, I'm serious, Maria. You're beautiful."

Though my vision was clouded, I managed to catch Popuri's eyes, and slowly, it registered in my head that Elli wasn't lying to make me feel better. In that moment, Popuri's emotions betrayed her. Where she had managed to keep a steady smile before, it slipped, and she glared at me, her hands coming to her hips and her cheeks flaming red.

"That is _my_ dress," she said so quietly and lowly that I'm sure only the three of us heard it. "Enjoy your time in it."

And though this obvious giveaway that I looked "cute" in the Goddess dress - excuse me, "Popuri's" dress - should have made me feel better, it only made me feel worse. If I were ugly, people would avoid staring at me. If I were pretty...

What would Charlie think?

Suddenly my face was in my hands. I could feel my hot tears pouring down my cheeks and running through my fingers. Elli was holding me as my fat tears hit the floor with a plop.

"Don't let her get to you," she said, stroking my dark hair and shaking her head. "She's just jealous that you look so beautiful in the Goddess dress - you truly do look naturally like a goddess in that dress. I never thought anyone could look so beautiful in that dress..."

The poor girl babbled on and on, trying to calm me down, but all I could think about was Charlie.

I'm sure you expect me to say that I found some kind of crush, hidden deep within my heart, on Charlie, and that I was so nervous for him to see me that _that's _why I started crying. I'm sure you expect my emotions to be so torn that it sounds just like your normal romance story, but I assure that this is not the case.

"Ugh!" I cried out in frustration, wiping my tears furious from my face, giving a loud huff. I was crying because I knew I would never live this day down.

I had accompanied Charlie to the Flower Festival as his "date" and left as the Goddess.

He was never going to get over his swelled ego.

"C'mon, let's go," Elli said, wiping my tears with a nearby kleenex. "I would love to do your makeup but... we're late and I honestly don't think you need it." She smiled admiringly at me and shook her head, but I only frowned. "You're going to make some guy's knees give, I promise you."

And with that, the girls stepped in front of me to precede me to the festivities, in which I would have to stand around in this stupid dress, fight my tears, and...

Suddenly I had a hold on Elli's arm again. "Elli, Elli no. Elli, I can't dance."

"Sure you can, everyone can dance!" Karen said from in front of Elli, her mocking, yet somehow warm smirk peeking out on her cheeks.

"Elli, seriously, you can't leave my side, Elli... Elli you have to stay with me. Seriously." I clung at her arm frantically, perhaps pulling her shoulder right out of the socket, as Elli stared at me confusedly.

"Maria, you know I can't do that. It's only customary for the Goddess to dance with the King. You _have _to dance."

"Elli, seriously -- Elli, no."

But before I could squeeze out another word, the big wooden door was opening, and there the four of them went, Elli ignoring me completely. I walked out silently behind them, and my mom gave an excited gasp, her hands coming to her mouth. She'd always secretly wished I would become the Goddess someday.

I stared at my feet, not daring to meet the rest of the audiences' eyes. I waited for Charlie's loud guffaw or something similar, but I heard nothing. My mind suddenly frantically tried to remember who last year's King was, but the information wasn't there - I internally kicked myself for skipping the festival last year.

"Congratulations, Maria!" I heard my father say loudly so the rest of the square could hear. As if he had to announce my name. The entire village was so darn tiny that it was completely and totally unnecessary.

And with that, I was turned to last year's King - Harris - who was so flustered that he couldn't speak. I suppose that, in a roundabout way, I was his date anyway. Wait a second - why had he asked me to be his date, if he were the King in the first place? I brushed it off and nodded politely. He only let out a breath in return.

"Do we dance now?" I asked, my voice laden with discomfort, but for some reason, Harris smiled widely at me. I was suddenly afraid that he was going to eat me.

My father shook his head in response, telling me to back up and let everyone see and congratulate me first. I did as was told, and was so dizzied by the rush of words that, at first, I barely recognized Charlie towards the end of the line. Finally, I allowed my eyes to meet his for the first time.

The emotion I met there I most certainly did not expect.

"What a shitty date," he only said, his lip curling at me, his expression livid. "So you're going to go with me to the festival, only to dance with someone _else_?" He hissed at me, his voice so low that I wasn't sure if Harris heard it.

"I have to dance with the King!" I replied quickly, my eyebrows raising. "It's part of the custom here, the Goddess always has to--"

"The _Goddess. _I took you to this festival to make you see that you weren't better than anyone else, but I see it did no good. The _Goddess._"

"That's the title! That's what it's called!" I desperately tried to make him understand, and suddenly, it occurred to me that _I _was trying to apologize to _him. _"Oh, whatever," I replied in exasperation, my own lip curling. "You don't care about anything but yourself anyway."

"Right back at you," he retaliated, his tone vicious and biting, but I turned away and took Harris's hand; it was now time to dance.

How dare he? The music started and I barely noticed; Harris moved forward and I moved backward, a split second afterward, my mind racing in anger. How dare he think that this was _my _fault? That I had chosen to be elected as Goddess? I unenthusiastically joined in on the dance everyone around me was doing, awkwardly mocking Harris's every move. I had just spent the past few minutes bawling on Elli's shoulder because of this, only to have Charlie bite me? How _dare _he?

I glanced over Harris's shoulder and caught a glimpse of my date. And who was my "date" dancing with? None other than _Karen. _I seethed; of course he would pick the best dancer and the prettiest body to go with. And what kind of date was _he, _anyway, to not understand _my _plight and dance with some other girl? A _proper _date would politely wait on the sidelines until his date finished her dance - a dance she was _obligated _to participate in - and then walk her home. He wasn't supposed to go find the prettiest face he could! I barely noticed as I stepped on Harris's toes; I was too busy glaring at Charlie.

Suddenly, the white-haired man turned his purple eyes over to me, and there was no anger there anymore - there was pure satisfaction. Pure malice. He smirked at me as Karen spun around in front of him, and I watched him mouth, "_She's hot, isn't she?_"

Ugh! I turned my eyes from that stupid man and vigorously focused on the dance, my eyes locked on the flower pots behind Harris. I stepped each step with such force that suddenly I was afraid I would crack the ground, and suddenly, Harris caught me by the wrist. For the first time since before the music started, I met his eyes.

"Maria," he said, his expression concerned and on the brink of amused, "the music's stopped."

With that, I turned and noticed that quite a few people were looking at me, including Popuri, who was giggling wildly. Apparently I'd gotten so off track during the dance that I hadn't even noticed it was over. My cheeks flushed crimson, my heartbeat speeding up.

Well, Charlie _did _always have the talent of making me forget everything, though maybe not in the best of ways.

I embarrassedly made my way to the wooden door once the dance was over, Elli hot on my trail. "Maria," she said, her little feet and cute hops not quite matching up to the speed of my long, deliberate strides, "you're supposed to hang around for a little bit lon--"

"I don't care!" I hissed, and with that, I pulled on the handle to the wooden door. It didn't seem to want to open up, so I tried again, pulling harder this time, and swung the door so easily that it smacked me right in the head. "This is _such _a _stupid _festival!"

I allowed the door to shut behind me and assumed that I was alone. I let out a great yell and tore the flowers out of my hair, allowing them to drift down to the floor in a flurry of petals.

"Uh... Maria?" There was a pregnant pause as I recognized Ann's voice. "You okay?"

"Would _you _be?" I questioned so quickly and angrily that I surprised even myself.

"Fair enough," she said, and I retreated to the bathroom without another word.

------------------------------

I undressed so quickly that I surprised myself. With that pink dress on the floor, I felt as though I was shedding possibly one of the worst experiences of my life. Next year, and every year afterwards, I would remember the allergy excuse, and never again would I wear that filthy, wretched dress.

And as much as I wish I could say that it was all over from here, it wasn't. The bad experiences of that day, I mean. As much as I had already been through, I expected it all to at least come to a closure; I could walk home with my parents just as I always had from every other festival, go to sleep, and go back to my daily routine. As mad as Charlie was at me, he most certainly wasn't going to ask me on another date.

However, it wasn't quite that easy. I finally worked up the courage to step into the village square, only to find it...

Completely empty. Perhaps I'd spent more time in the bathroom screaming than I thought I had. I looked to the sky and realized that the sun was setting - quickly - and I'd better get home before dark. Usually I wasn't scared by this kind of thing because my parents were there to take me home, but I regrettably realized that they probably expected Charlie to escort me home for the evening.

So here I was, expected to walk myself home. How awful.

I descended the stairs from the village square closest to the bar, and wasn't very surprised to hear music, laughter, and clinking glasses escalating loudly from the inside. Most of the time, the bar closed on festival days, but still allowed a few "friends" in for more of a party setting than a bar one. Obviously, I'd never been invited to these parties. Quietly, I made my way to the window, hoping some wayward drunk wasn't standing there.

I peered inside to see, firstly, Ann's father and brother. Her father was swaying slightly in his chair, a large grin on his face, and her brother seemed to be drinking his troubles away. Next to him, I saw Harris, his face flustered and his smile so big that his eyes were closed, and lastly, I saw two people that I didn't exactly want to see at that moment. Firstly, there was Charlie, sitting in a chair at the table with the others, and secondly, there was Karen, sitting in his lap, her cheeks flustered in a mixture of embarrassment and alcohol.

I stood there for only a moment. With my eyes, I stared at Charlie, daring him to look up at me; I had the feeling I might throw a rock in the window, for some strange reason. But instead, a sadly familiar pair of eyes met my own, and I disappeared from the window.

Assuming that I'd gone without notice, I didn't bother to pick up speed or hide behind anything. I didn't, however, expect to see Harris stumble out of the bar towards me, his hat tilted to the side. "Hey, Maria." The slurred words slipped from his mouth like a wet bar of soap into the bathroom sink. I froze in place, my spine becoming stiff, and slowly turned to face him.

"Hi," I said, a hint of sarcasm ringing clear in my voice. Under most circumstances, I probably would have been perhaps a bit more timid, but with his intoxication and my apparent fury, I didn't mind the change.

"Hey," he said, though he'd just said it. "Hey, Maria." He quietly and awkwardly watched me, his hands in his pockets. A chill went down my spine; the spring's night air tickled the hairs on my neck and, for some reason, caused me to feel quite lonely.

"Alright, well," I said, as politely but as definitely as possible, "I'm going to head on back home, then." With that, I turned and began to walk back home, and he stood awkwardly in place.

"Wait," he said, shaking his head. "Are you walking home by yourself?"

I stopped, but didn't turn; I only nodded, tilting my head slightly towards him so that he could see my profile. In that instant, another pang of loneliness hit me; how ironic that the 'Goddess' of the year would be the one to walk home alone tonight. And how ironic that, for some reason, I felt rejected. By _Charlie, _of all people.

A strange silence overcame us both, and I heard him approach me. He was unmistakably drunk, his feet dragging noisily and heavily on the ground, his breathing heavy. He stood about two feet behind me when he came to a stop.

"I can take you home," he said quietly, his own timidity pulling itself to the surface, despite his intoxication. "I mean, you don't need to go by yourself-"

"I'll be alright," I interrupted. "It's a nice night, and there usually aren't any rabid animals running about Flowerbud Village. At least, I hope so - I don't make it a habit of going out past dark." The laugh that escaped my throat after this spoken thought was an empty one; I was obviously sore about something.

However, Harris didn't give up. "I insist," he said slowly, as if he had to pause to remember the word 'insist,' "You should let me walk you home."

"It's really alright, Harris," I said, shaking my head and turning my head back to smile at him. "I'll see you later, alright?" I began to walk away, but to no avail. He followed closely behind me.

"I'll at least follow you home, to make sure you get there." He nodded confidently, as if this was his duty as a villager, or perhaps his duty as something else. Another hollow laugh escaped my throat; it was apparent that he was going to walk me home whether I liked it or not.

"Okay," I said, and I continued, my hands tucked in my jacket pockets. He wandered closely and slowly behind me, and at first, there was silence. It wasn't awkward like I expected, however; instead it was somewhat peaceful. It allowed me to have my thoughts to myself. And suddenly, I realized what a blessing it would have been to walk home on my own.

"The moon's pretty," Harris said, his head turned up to the sky. "It's bright tonight."

I nodded and looked up at the moon, myself, and wondered why the Flower Festival always had to be a bright and wonderful day. Had it _ever _rained on that day? I highly doubted it, and despite myself, I smiled. It was small things like this that made me believe in the Goddess.

"But you were prettier today, Maria, you really were."

The silence that had before been peaceful was now very awkward. The only sounds that reached my ears were my own quiet steps on the pavement and his drunken shuffling behind me. I heard him shift uncomfortably as he walked, as though he regretted what he'd just said.

"Maria, I think you're beautiful."

"I think I can take it from here," I said politely; by now my library was in plain sight. "Really, thank you Harris, and good night. Please go home."

His shuffling stopped as I continued on. I dared not turn around until around five minutes later, and he was gone.

How embarrassing.


	7. Chapter Seven

What exactly had I done to warrant this torture? I'd lived all of my life according to what I thought was right; I'd never had a sip of alcohol, much less even been kissed or anywhere close. Not that these things were terribly _bad _in a person, it's just that I was far, far away from what I thought deserved Goddess-punishment, but that's exactly what it felt like I was getting.

For some reason, it bothered me more than I thought it would when Charlie didn't show up in my library within the next few days. I had expected him - no, dreaded him - coming into my library the day afterward, and part of the day after that, simply because I knew he wouldn't have anything good to say. But as the hours slipped slowly by, I began to realize that not seeing him, and not knowing what was on his mind, was almost worse, somehow.

What had I done wrong? A knot of guilt began to tug at my gut, though that feeling of apparent anger was nowhere near under the surface. The guilt, as a matter of fact, only served to make me even more angry, but somehow I felt like I had done something wrong. Was I supposed to have politely explained to Harris that I had been "accompanied" to the festival - that I'd had a date? Would that have been in order? Just thinking of that made me want to laugh; why should I have cared? It wasn't as if I were the new one and town and he was the one who knew the customs. No, it was completely the other way around. Yet, I wished he knew our customs, if only for the reason of not being so darn angry with me.

But then again, why was it so upsetting that he was that angry with me? I suppose it was because I'd never seen him _truly _angry before, only confrontational. He was just trying to entertain himself and pick a fight before, and now it seemed as though he were truly mad. This thought of mine was confirmed by his absence.

But was I going to apologize?

Ha.

It was hard to entertain myself while waiting on Charlie to retaliate, but every now and then I most definitely wished for the normal privacy of my library. That was not easily achieved when Harris, flustered and grinning stupidly, entered my sanctuary on a daily basis, flowers in hand. Part of me was grateful, but another part of me wanted to tell him to not waste the poor flower's life. I wasn't interested in flowers and normal girly things like other women were. It just wasn't my style. But here he was, trying his very best; it had become apparent to even my unwilling mind that he was attempting to court me now.

After around four days of this endless... torture, so to speak, Harris finally came out with it.

"Maria, do you like the flowers?"

I stared at the yellow flowers on my desk and forced myself, with some difficulty, to nod. I tried not to think of the other yellow flowers, wilting and fading, in the trash can under my desk. However, I wouldn't meet his eyes.

"I pick them from the Goddess spring every day for you - I just happen to pass by there and I think of you. I mean, you know, since you were the Goddess at the Flower Festival and everything... I just think of you sometimes, is all."

I nodded again, expressionless, my eyes focusing in and out on the flowers. I didn't want to hear this...

"I think you're really... really amazing, Maria," he said, and he inched forward towards my desk, placing his hands on it and looking at me sincerely. For a moment, I felt my heart skip a beat, though I'm sure it was out of pure anxiety than anything else. "I mean, really."

I forced a smile and finally worked up the courage to look up at him. "Thank you, Harris," I said, and out of pure politeness, I added, "you're a nice guy yourself."

Harris grinned so widely in that instant that I knew I had messed up.

"I'm glad you think so, Maria," he replied, his face flushing an even darker shade of red. My own cheeks did the same, though not for the same reasons. "I'm really glad you think so." And with that, the strange mailman turned and left my library, leaving me to stare at the yellow, unnecessary flowers on the desk.

Yikes.

And though that came as somewhat of a shock to me, nothing could compare to the next day's shock.

Charlie entered my library before Harris ever had a chance to, a sour look on his face. I waited for the bite, but a part of me, deep down, was relieved to see him, and I wondered why.

"Hey," he said reluctantly, not meeting my eyes. His purple eyes were instead focused on the bookshelf just to his right. "How's it going."

That sequence of events, quite honestly, threw me for much more than a loop than anything Charlie had ever said to me. How in the world was I supposed to respond to that, after everything that had happened? My mouth fell open, my eyes went wide, and the silence grew more apparent.

After a moment, I finally found my voice and replied, "It's going fine," though I said it so hesitantly and questioningly that it sounded more like I was asking him if everything was going fine.

He nodded, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, and his eyes drifted down to the floor. "I have a cabbage."

I considered retaliating with a simple "congratulations?" but instead decided to suffer through the silence, if only to find out what he was really in here for. Was he about to set me up to stab me in the back again? My mind reeled.

"Well, I have lots of cabbages."

Silence. I felt like jumping across the table and strangling him; how odd that I would desire anything but silence in my library.

"Anyway, since you helped me out I thought I'd give you one of them." And suddenly, the abnormally tall man was holding out a cabbage, though somewhat wilted and not exactly quite healthy looking in nature, for me to take from him. I stared at it for a moment.

"Is it..." I stopped the words before they escaped my mouth. I supposed asking if the cabbage was inappropriate at this time, considering that it _seemed _as though he were thanking me, or perhaps even apologizing.

"It's a cabbage," he only responded, and I was grateful in that moment that he couldn't read my mind. I fought the smile that inevitably came to my lips and took the cabbage from his hands. "I know it's not exactly a gift or anything, but it's a cabbage, and you helped me plant them, so I thought I'd give you one."

I wondered if he knew, at all, that this was perhaps the greatest gift I had received in the past five days. Still attempting to fight my smile, I instead only managed to achieve a smirk, and I could tell, by the look on Charlie's face, that it was beginning to make him mad.

"Hey," he said quickly, his cheeks flaming, his eyes raging. "You be happy I gave you something, after the way you treated me a couple of days ago. I'm being a true gentleman, here."

"I know," I said calmly, picking back the top leaves of the cabbage to reveal greener, much more scrumptious looking leaves. "Thank you. I really do appreciate it."

Silence fell over the both of us. Enter Harris, yellow flowers in hand as usual.

For some reason, I wanted to sock Harris right in the gut, though he was bringing me a gift - a daily gift, for that matter. He was only being sweet, trying to court me this way, but there was something about this rare moment with Charlie that I honestly and truly wanted to appreciate. And you could always count on Harris to mess it up.

"What are you doing here?" He said to Charlie, his tone taking me by surprise; I was used to his softer, sweeter tones.

Charlie glanced at the yellow flowers in Harris's hands. His lips pursed, and he glared at me. "I see," he only said, and I wondered in that moment what in the world he could possibly mean by "I see." Was he angry that Harris was trying to court me? And if so - _why?_

Harris looked over at the cabbage in my own hands, and I turned a bright shade of pink. Charlie had only been thanking me. Surely Harris would realize that.

"Here," he said to me, his tone laden with fake sweetness, "I got you some flowers. A plant _proper _for a lady."

Harris really had no idea, did he? Cabbage - that was probably the best gift someone could give me, other than some kind of bug book or something like that. Flowers? Suddenly I was tempted to show him my trash can underneath my desk.

I noticed a rarity - a shade of red on Charlie's cheeks, and he glared at Harris before leaving the library, his only word a muffled "whatever."

I truly wanted to hurt Harris. As the door slammed shut, he grinned stupidly at me, shaking his head. "Cabbage?" He said, as though it were the most preposterous thing in the world. "Seriously, cabbage? He has no clue what he's doing, does he?"

I wondered if Harris knew that Charlie had a better clue than he did.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next day was a Monday, a free day for me, and for some reason, I felt like walking. Where, exactly, was I going? That I didn't quite know, but as I allowed my feet to guide my path, I suddenly realized that I was quickly approaching Charlie's farm.

It was around midday when I reached his farm, and he wasn't there. This I was, quite honestly, very very thankful for. There was something about close-up contact that made me nervous, especially after what had happened the day before, and I realized quickly that my shy nature was returning. But I at least wanted to thank Charlie for the cabbage, so I had to create some kind of confrontation. As I reached his farm, I found myself unable to go past the mailbox. I took a sheet of paper from my bag and jotted down a recipe for cabbage rolls.

Perhaps this would be enough, I thought, as I wrote _thanks_, signed my name, and stuck it in the mailbox. I paused for a moment there, laughing to myself at the possibility of our mutual mailman, Harris, coming to read this letter before Charlie had the chance to. And part of me panicked that he would destroy it.

I winced slightly as I took the letter from the mailbox, and my heart sped up as I realized what I was about to do next. I felt as though I was approaching a sleeping lion as I inched up to his door as quietly and discreetly as I could, though I was almost certain the farmer wasn't home. I removed a piece of tape from inside the roll in my bag and stuck the recipe to the door with it, and I retreated as quickly as possible. However, just as I was about to leave, I thought of one more thing I wanted to say, and raced back to the letter.

"_By the way," _I wrote, _"Cabbage is my favorite food."_

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next few days were quiet around the library, and though I had earlier anticipated Charlie's appearance, I was now thankful for his absence. Ever since I had written that recipe down, I'd wondered what he thought when he read it; it hadn't occurred to me that it could be taken as some kind of interest until I'd already left the note. But considering his absence, he hadn't drawn too much out of it, or else he had and had decided to stay away. Either way, ignorance was bliss, so I didn't fret about it. Instead, I buried myself in a book.

This book arrived, packaged, at my library on my day off. Once again, I stared at the package, at the peculiar lack of a return address, and I shrugged. Must have been another mishap, but there was no return address, so my mind - I mean, my library - had another free book.

I immersed myself within the pages of this romance novel. I read as a couple's love blossomed and turned into a beauty like none other, and I began to wonder if I would ever find such a romance. These ideas began to occupy my thoughts on a daily basis; how I hated to read romance novels! Sometimes they only served to depress you. The worst part about a romance novel is that, if you don't have anyone, they depress you - and it becomes a vicious cycle, because if you're depressed because of a romance novel, then you don't have anyone to pick you up. Do you catch me, or am I talking in circles?

As I finished the novel, I yearned for someone like that, but I knew for sure that I hadn't met him yet. _He _(I had always been a strong believer in fate and "the one") hadn't appeared in my life, or in Flowerbud Village, for that matter. I allowed my mind to ponder over the possible bachelors.

First off, there was the obvious bachelor. Harris. He would love me, no doubt; he perhaps would provide me with my every need. But I knew that I didn't return his affection, and that, quite honestly, his affection would eventually fade over time. I longed for an affection - a love, no less - that would follow me, and haunt me, until the day I died. I longed for such a thing, and I knew Harris couldn't provide it.

And of course, there was Ann's brother, though I couldn't remember his name. He was decently cute, but he was more anti-social than I was, and it wasn't due to timidity. He simply didn't like people. I wasn't sure if I could get along with someone like that, but then again, I'd never given the man a chance - nor had he given me such a chance. I highly doubted any romance would ever blossom there.

Thirdly, you had the owner of the bakery. He was older, but he was a decently nice man, and as far as I was aware, there was nothing in between him and Elli. He seemed like he would be a caring father, which was something I daresay I searched for in a man. However, nothing but friendliness had ever happened in that department, either, so I couldn't imagine it at all. The bachelors of Flowerbud Village were growing very slim.

Oh, and there was Rick, of course. He was definitely a nice man. Truthfully, if there were anyone in Flowerbud Village that I could have picked at the time, it would have been Rick. He was nice, and he was a little strange, kind of like me, but there was still something about him that didn't seem like a romance would blossom there. I began to wonder what, exactly, I was looking for in a man.

I finally noticed the sheet of paper I was doodling on. So far, I'd written all of these fellows' names down and had scratched them out. I smiled amusedly at the sheet of paper, and suddenly, one particular bachelor popped into my head.

I wondered if he even counted as a bachelor. There was something about the man that gave off the "I will never marry" vibe, but at the same time, there was some other kind of vibe there that I didn't understand. I jotted his name down and laughed to myself, crossing it out with a big flourish. Who was I kidding? Charlie and me? Was that even possible?


End file.
